Disclaimer: If you don't understand this by now, you must be a) completely senile or b) an idiot. Bottom line: I do not own, I do not make a profit, and I did this with no intention to steal anything. :P Yes, rub it in... :(

Chapter 7 / The Terms

Hermione was unnerved. So incredibly unnerved. Why did she have to be such a good person? No, seriously. Why did she have a conscience? Why on earth did she care that she had finally shaken Draco Malfoy to the core with an insult? She had even dreamt about it the previous night for christ's sake. This was getting insane... and she was unnerved.

She downed the last bit of her coffee and shuddered at the bitter taste of the grains gathering at the bottom of her cup. Her eyes were resting on an unidentified object outside, not really noticing what it was she was looking at. All she seemed to gather was that the morning was rather grey, and quite possibly cold. She was trying to think of what to do with her day, wondering of she could find some way or another to escape her stupid one-tracked mind. She was going to punish that mind. Oh it was going to be bad. She was going to force herself to look at photographs of Pansy for hours on end. That should do it. She cackled to herself, and then realised she was laughing evilly at the thought of punishing herself. Merlin.

Shaking her head in exasperation at herself, she rose hastily from the chair and put the dishes in the sink. She looked down on them as they sank down into the water, and was suddenly interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Her eyebrows shot up in confusion, and she turned around to peer around the corner. What met her eyes on the other side made her tumble forwards in shock. She rounded the corner in a very ungraceful manner before she straightened up, coughed slightly and ran her hands awkwardly over her shirt.

"Hey, watch it, bucktooth the beaver," he said, not quite hiding a grin.

"I...what?"

"Close your gap, Granger," he commented, rolling his eyes as he grabbed her by the elbow and lead her out onto the pathway outside. "Lots to do and lots to see."

"What the hell happened to you?!" she cried in disbelief. "Did you swallow a bottle of that dodgy Jolly Potion from Fred and George?"

She got no answer to this. Instead, he just continued to drag her along, not slowing his pace down at all.

"I can walk quite nicely on my own, you know," she snapped, trying to wriggle her arm out of his firm grip.

When he suddenly let go of her, she was not at all prepared. She tripped over her own feet and knocked against him, gripping onto his arm to keep steady.

"Remarkable show of walking skill, M'lady."

She stared at him in utter horror. When he continued to grin, she tugged on his arm and forced him to stop.

"Stop being so incredibly happy. It's freaking me out," she proclaimed with a stern glance.

"I don't get it," he commented dimly. "I'm always happy..."

"No, Malfoys are never happy."

"Says who?"

"YOU!" she cried. "You've said it a million times."

"So I have, now that you mentioned it," he said, looking thoughtful. Or was it..fake..thoughtful? She narrowed her eyes.

"I know what you're doing," she accused, folding her arms threateningly over her chest as they walked along the road towards town.

"Oh, do tell," he said in a mock excited whisper.

"You're compensating"

He snorted loudly at this, but his gaze did waver.

"You are," she pressed. "You were insulted by what I said, and now you're acting as if you're high on some very dubious potion fumes."

"I was not insulted," he said indignantly, dragging the 'u' sound out far too much to be believable.

Hermione rose an eyebrow. "You were trained as a spy and you can't even lie to me, bookworm Granger."

He gave her a scolding look.

"Granger, will you just play along for once?" he asked, looking severely annoyed. "Here I was, ready to pretend as if nothing had happened... and you just had to ruin the perfect set up."

"I prefer to talk things through, to sort them out," she informed him, sticking her chin out quite defiantly. When he snorted in reply, she furrowed her brow indignantly.

"What?"

"You prefer to talk things through? Is that why you're up here alone, hiding in a little house out in the country?" he inquired, paying her a small smirk.

"I am on... holiday," she spat through pursed lips, ignoring the fact that there was no way Malfoy could have missed the blatantly obvious signs.

"Sure you are," he nodded, looking straight ahead.

"Look, I don't appreciate being patronized and quite frankly –"

"Granger... relax," he cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "You're so defensive about every little thing."

"Well, can you blame me?" she asked, keeping her voice down. "Our track record is quite impressive. You used to take every opportunity to insult everything about me. I'm still waiting for it in every sentence you speak."

He turned to look at her at that, slowing his pace down as he kept his eyes locked on her features. His brow furrowed and there was no trace of the malicious sneer or taunting smirk on his lips.

"No, I guess I can't blame you," he replied quietly, taking his eyes off her with a jerk of his head.

She sighed, noticing they were nearing town. They didn't speak as their feet moved almost in sync against the ground. Malfoy nodded to an older couple that passed and Hermione couldn't help but noticed how they lit up at the sight of him. She gave a soft smile as Malfoy and the couple exchanged a few sentences, and when they held out their hands for her she gripped them with enthusiasm.

"So... Mason," she said, trying to hide her grin as they turned to walk again.

His head snapped towards her at this.

"How did you know?" he asked, looking a bit sheepish.

"Miranda."

"I should have known she would take a liking to you," he growled.

"I'm very likable." She nodded, and smirked when he rose his eyebrow at her. "Well, I am!"

"I couldn't very well go around with the Malfoy name, though, could I?"

"Not if you wanted to hide, no," she replied smartly.

"I'm not the only one hiding, in case you've forgotten."

She sighed at that, no longer having the energy to deny it. The truth of the matter was that she was hiding, and he knew it, thus the more she denied it, the stupider she would look. She momentarily forgot about the frightening turn of conversation when the town center came into view. The market stalls were set up yet again, the town square once again brimming with people.

"I thought I'd show you some of the Wizard's shops," he said over the loud chatter engulfing them. She merely nodded, still feeling a bit unnerved by the unresolved issue between them.

It was soon forgotten though, as he lead her into the muggle bookshop. She stopped by the first shelf and grinned madly.

"Granger, wizard shop, remember?"

He stood further in the store, tapping his foot rather impatiently as her eyes skimmed each title with a hungry expression.

"Oh, for crying out loud..." He came up and grabbed her by the arm, and she followed reluctantly through the secret passageway by the second shelf.

Her worries were soon forgotten as he let her spent an entire hour inside the bookstore, browsing every part she could get her hands on. His loud complaining was thoroughly ignored as she got lost in the many titles. When he finally decided it was time to drag her out of there by force, she hadn't even bought a single book.

"I don't need to buy them just because I want them," she told him. "I can't just buy anything I'd like. Sometimes most of us have to want something and then save up for it and work for it."

He just huffed in reply to that, not missing the hint of how spoiled he was. She smiled sweetly, just as he dragged her down the alley between two houses. Her eyes widening in surprise, she shrieked indignantly.

"sssh," he snapped, yanking her along.

"Where are you taking me? I demand you to answer."

He laughed harshly. "Oh you do, do you?"

Before she could reply, he had stopped and grabbed her shoulders to turn her towards the wall on their left side. She peered curiously at the wall and an old wooden door began materializing under her gaze. When it had appeared fully, he held out his hand urging her to go first. She looked at him with slight uncertainty, but then she put her hand on the door and pushed it open.

What met her inside almost made her heart stop. It was a huge room, so high under the ceiling that she had to crane her neck and every wall was covered in potions and potion ingredients. It had to be the largest collection of potion ingredients for miles. She wheeled around and stared at him with large eyes, her lips parted in an awed expression.

"I thought you'd like this," he said faintly, giving a small smile. "Severus nearly fainted when he came here first time around."

"It's amazing," she breathed, tumbling around in a circle as she tried to take in as much as possible.

He followed her around, taking in her enthusiasm and for once unguarded presentation. She was far to busy squealing in delight at every rare ingredient to put up the usual front they always wore around each other. Perhaps that's what made her say what she had wanted to say all evening.

"Look... Malfoy. I really am sorry."

He turned from the isle of different dreaming potions with an unreadable look on his face. This made her slightly unnerved, but she just clutched the glass of salamander eyes and met his gaze with determination.

"And I was serious when I said I didn't mean it."

His eyes narrowed at this, and his expression darkened dangerously.

"Do I look like an idiot to you, Granger?"

She sighed. "As much as that cue for an insult was almost too good to pass up...no, you don't."

"Then stop telling me things we both know aren't true."

"The reason I could never mean it is that...well... I've... kind of... begun to look at you as my...friend."

She had stammered through the declaration, feeling a bit exposed at revealing this fact. It wasn't something she had really been aware of until very recently. She had been so concerned about what she'd said, and she couldn't at all fathom why she cared so deeply about whether or not it insulted him. But when he came to drag her out of the house to go shopping she realised spending time with him had become something normal, and something she – God forbid – quite enjoyed.

She had expected him to howl with laughter and call her a boring excuse for a Gryffindor, swearing he wouldn't even befriend her if she was a Miss Witch candidate. She had, however, not expected him to keep a grave expression, his eyebrow slightly quirkec in surprise.

"If that is how you truly feel you would have told me about Weasley."

His words made her jaw drop as she stared at him in disbelief. He just shrugged and turned his back on her as he once again surveyed the shelves.

"I can't believe you're trying to pressure me into telling you of all people about my relationship with Ron," she snapped, tightening her hold around the glass of salamander eyes.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," his muffled voice said as he had moved even further away. "If you considered me your friend you would have told me without second guessing it, and you certainly wouldn't have been outraged at the thought of telling 'me of all people'."

That shut her up. And things rarely shut Hermione Granger up. In fact, she couldn't really remember the last time that happened, if it ever had. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment, knowing fully well that he made complete sense. She felt the eyes of the shop clerk at the back of her neck and fought back the strange lump in her throat.

"Look, I didn't bring you here to ruin it all for you. Let's finish up here and take the discussion later," he suddenly said, walking along the longest wall of the room.

She swallowed again and nodded in agreement, forcing the thoughts to the back of her mind as she turned her concentration to the shelves and shelves of potions.

It had to be at least an hour later that the two of them watched the door disappear, leaving nothing but concrete walls and a dark alley way. Hermione carried her newly received potions as they snuck out of the narrow passage, carefully making sure that no one saw them come out of there. It would look rather odd, after all.

"Let's go somewhere they have firewhiskey," she suggested as she tried to get a better grip on her heavy bags.

"Sure, but it's rather shadier than you're used to," he warned as he began crossing the town square.

"After all the downright crazy places I had to meet you at during the war, shady is the least of my worries," she replied dryly. "I still have a scar after that guy bit me. Thank God he wasn't actually a werewolf, just mentally... challenged."

He laughed loudly at that, his eyes glimmering oddly.

"That was the best night I've had in my life."

She glared at him as they walked side by side. "Oh, I am so glad you take pleasure in my misery."

"Oh, come on. You have to admit it was pretty funny."

"How is it funny?! He said he was a werewolf and he bit me. I was scared out of my mind," she cried indignantly.

"But he wasn't even transformed. And he was wearing antlers from a muggle costume shop. In fact, he was muggle. You were jumping around screaming, completely forgetting that we should in no way draw attention to ourselves," he reminded her, his mouth fighting to hide his amused grin. "And when I was trying to lead you out of there to get you to St. Mungo's you kept screaming for me to get away from you because you were 'befouled', 'dangerous' and a 'creature'."

The corner of her mouth twitched involuntarily at the memory just as he stopped before a large wooden building. "Okay, so I was a bit hysteric..."

He snorted at her slight understatement and gave her an amused glance. She stared back, and for a few seconds they just looked at each other before he pointed at two barrels standing by the corner of the house. He stepped over and tapped one of them as she followed right behind him, and he seemed to mutter slightly under his breath. Within seconds a narrow staircase appeared between the two barrels, leading down into the ground. He signaled for her to go first, and she descended the stairs, careful not to trip and make a complete fool of herself.

He had been right, it was rather shadier than what she would normally prefer, but in its own way it was rather charming. Smoke hung heavily in the air, the smell of firewhiskey rather overwhelming and she swore she could see some sort of magical creature scurrying into a corner. Its occupants were also somewhat strange, and it reminded her suspiciously of the Hog's Head and half expected to find Mundungus Fletcher seated in a shadowed spot. She looked around curiously as she maneuvered herself between more or less empty tables before reaching the bar. She preferred sitting there. Seating themselves by a table would be too datelike for her liking.

She flung herself up on the tall stool and watched as he followed her lead. For the first time it hit her how weird it was to see him in muggle clothing, and something as casual as jeans nonetheless. She had him pegged for the Armani suit type, though she supposed this small town wasn't exactly the right environment for such fashion proclamations.

"Two firewhiskeys," he ordered, not taking notice of her watchful eye.

She just looked at him in silence, watching the muscles in his neck flex as he turned his head to survey the crowd. It soon became clear that he was not going to be the one to bring the subject back in the open, and she looked down onto her hands, swallowing whatever pride she might have left.

"It's not you."

He turned towards her, looking severely confused. The two glasses of firewhiskey were placed in front of them, but neither seemed to notice.

"It's not that I don't want to tell you, it's just that I don't want to talk about Ron at all," she explained.

"And yet you claim you like to talk things through," he retorted, sliding his finger along the side of his glass.

"Not in this case," she said with a grimace. "I quite prefer getting some distance from it. Recovering."

"My point is just that if you really saw me as a friend you wouldn't be so bothered by the prospect of telling me."

"But I've hardly told anyone," she protested, feeling frustrated at his unwillingness to understand her point of view.

"You've told Potter and Mini Weasley."

"Well, I kind of had to. Where else would I go?"

He sighed, bringing the glass up to his lips. She watched his lips wrap around the edge as he took a sip, mesmerized by the little movement.

"My point is that you don't trust me, and if you don't I can hardly be your friend. If you were sitting here with Longbottom you wouldn't think twice about getting it off your chest. Or Luna Lovegood, for that matter."

She flushed slightly in anger and embarrassment. Chances were she wouldn't have thought too hard about telling Neville or Luna. She knew she could count on their advice, their ability to listen without gloating or laughing. While she definitely wanted to believe the same from Malfoy, she couldn't be entirely sure that his reaction would be the same.

"I just don't know where you stand anymore," she admitted, moving her glass around in small circles and watched the liquid swirl. "I guess I'm just scared you'll find it funny or gloat about it, and I can't handle that right now."

"If that's what you think, you definitely don't know me, Granger," he commented, giving her a long look out of the corner of his eye before taking another sip.

"I only know what you've chosen to show me,€" she retorted. "All I've ever seen is taunts and ridicule from you. How am I supposed to know there's more?"

"I thought I had shown you that I'm more during the war, and during the time you've been here", he said, his voice showing no emotion despite his words. "I haven't been that little prat you knew at Hogwarts for years."

"We still bicker all the time".

"That's just how we work," he said after a moment's pause. "It's how we interact, you and I. You call me names too, but that doesn't make you a bad person. And it doesn't mean you wouldn't listen to me if I had any problems."

"It's not... I just...I still see you as my friend."

She was becoming quite frustrated with this whole stupid situation. Draco Malfoy was a git.

"If you did, you would trust me."

A/N: So there it is. This chapter is not one of my personal favourites, but I promise the two next ones are better (at least in my opinion they are).

And to answer pstibbons... Draco is in a way angry at himself, I suppose, but more angry at the way she perceives him. He doesn't like that she seems him like some kind of friendless loser, because as will be revisited later.. he's infact not as friendless as she assumes.